


Baby, It's Three in the Morning

by LetmeliveTM



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, But it's not actually his fault this time, Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Married Life, Sherlock Can't Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetmeliveTM/pseuds/LetmeliveTM
Summary: "Do you see him?""No. Go to sleep."John sleep talks and Sherlock just wants to sleep, damnit.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	Baby, It's Three in the Morning

Sherlock felt his husband stir beside him, jostling his head where it lay on his chest. He grumbled softly and attempted to cuddle into his beloved's side, hoping to prevent what he knew was coming, but it was useless as, suddenly, John was sitting bolt upright in their bed. His back was ramrod straight and he looked, for all intents and purposes, completely alert and aware of his surroundings.

Sherlock knew better, however, and threw his arm up to drape it across his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Every so often - the most times being twice every other month - John would sit up in the middle of the night, still completely asleep, and would start whispering about men creeping through the darkness or false alarms in the form of a wild animal or a bush twitching in the wind. He would then drop back onto the bed and resume his silent slumber, leaving an annoyed and very awake Sherlock to try and sink back through the elusive veil of sleep. 

The first time this had happened had spooked Sherlock to no end. He'd sat up right alongside his husband and listened intently for tiny shuffles or the nearly silent huff of breath that was not his own or John's. His sleep filled eyes had darted around the room for the intruder John whispered about, until he noticed the sleepy swaying and closed eyes of his lover and promptly felt very stupid indeed. He'd laid back down and watched John's back, listening to his soft murmurs and waiting for him to settle back down. 

Each time it had happened after that first night, Sherlock either regarded it with a sleepy loathing or amusement. Sometimes he would reply to his husband's seemingly random mumblings, muffling his giggles behind a hand as John's replies grew more and more ridiculous and nonsensical. Other times, like tonight, Sherlock had to resist the urge to kick his lover for fear of disturbing him and being attacked by the former army doctor. He would often tug one of the pillows over his head and groan into the soft fabric, wanting nothing more than the sweet descent into unconsciousness. It was odd, considering his past abhorrence for sleep. He blamed it on John for awakening the irritating need to always be touching him in some way and robbing him of his ability to sleep without the comforting heat of his husband warming his side. 

"Do you see him?" John whispered into the darkness, his silhouette printed against the light coming from the moon that spilled across the ivory bed covers. The rare clear night in London provided enough light to see that there was no one hiding in the shadowed corners of the bedroom. Just the tightly closed wardrobe with a sleeve caught between the wooden doors, a small desk with John's laptop and a book with post-it-notes sticking out from the pages and a small set of shelves with all manners of random items that belonged to Sherlock, ranging from a mug filled with dried out biros to Billy the Skull. 

Sherlock dragged his hand across his face and stared up at the ceiling with burning eyes, "No. Go back to sleep" He answered, just loud enough for John's sleep fogged brain to pick up on, but not too loud that it disturbed the quiet stillness of the flat. 

John's hand somehow found it's way to Sherlock's knee and squeezed tightly (if Sherlock had felt poetic at that moment, he might've said it was because they could always find each other no matter what, but he wasn't feeling poetic at all tonight, rather just very exhausted), "But I heard him" he insisted and Sherlock tilted his head to catch a glimpse of the tense, broad shoulders and sightless stare into the empty corner of their bedroom. 

"There's nothing there, my love, we're safe" He said, wiggling the leg that John held very slightly as confirmation of this fact and felt the grip loosen a little. 

"Are you sure?" John mumbled, already slipping into deeper sleep as his words slurred and melded together like a drink sloshing around in a glass. 

Sherlock's lips twitched fondly, "Yes, of course, it's just your imagination. Now sleep" he said, carefully reaching out to gently tug on the worn, yet comfortable t-shirt his husband wore and smiling when the man leaned back and flopped back into the bed, returning to his initial sleeping position. 

Sherlock curled into John's side with his smile still in place. Despite the frustration of being awoken in the night and forced to listen to ramblings about an invisible man, Sherlock still loved John dearly and would rather be woken up every night by these odd occurrences than have to sleep without his beloved husband by his side. 

Besides, at least he didn't snore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this cute little thingy while I work on something with an actual plot for once :)
> 
> Fun fact!: This is actually based on a true story my mum told me about my dad. He used to work in the army and would do the same thing John did in this fic after he came home and when i heard about it for the first time I immediately thought of these two lmao. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, stay safe my loves! ❤️  
> ~ G


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